Scientology: A millionaire opens a center in Clearwater, Fla., a hub
of the 'religion,' to battle what he calls a dangerous cult.

By Jean Marbella
Baltimore Sun National Staff
January 19, 2000

CLEARWATER, Fla. -- It's a modest, two-story office building in a
sleepy downtown. But for Bob Minton, it is the field office for
nothing less than a war for the heart and soul of this quiet coastal
city.

"We're going to liberate Clearwater," Minton declares.

Whether Clearwater needs liberating is open to debate. But after
about 25 years of serving, often uneasily, as one of the Church of
Scientology's most important bases in the country, Clearwater finds
itself once again drawn into a battle over the controversial group.

Minton, 53, is a retired millionaire from New England who has
protested and funded lawsuits against the church, which he says is a
cult that has destroyed members' lives and trampled on the civil
rights of its opponents.

Early this month, he brought his fight to the heart of the church's
Clearwater operations by opening a center here to provide
information on the group and provide "exit counseling" for members
who want to leave.

The church, founded by the late science fiction writer L. Ron
Hubbard and perhaps best known for such celebrity members as
John Travolta and Tom Cruise, has drawn many detractors over the
years -- from disenchanted former adherents to the Internal Revenue
Service.

The IRS fought a decadeslong battle with the church before finally
restoring its tax-exempt status as a religion.

But it perhaps has never come up against someone like Minton, who
could be dismissed as just another gadfly but for the fact that he
seems willing to put considerable money where his mouth is.

To date, Minton estimates he has spent $2.5 million on his crusade.

"The only difference between me and any other critic," Minton says,
"is I was fortunate enough to make some money to be able to retire
earlyand fight these guys."

Church officials have fought back: Pickets have descended on
Minton's various homes to denounce him as a religious bigot, and he
says his family and friends have been harassed. The church sought to
block the center from opening by offering the seller of the building
twice the $325,000 that Minton paid.

"They're here only for one purpose, to harass Scientology," says
Mike Rinder, a spokesman for the church. "It's an escalation of his
campaign."

Named for Scientologist

The center is named the Lisa McPherson Trust, to memorialize a
Scientologist who died here four years ago while in the care of fellow
church members.

The church faces criminal charges in connection with McPherson's
death, and Minton has helped to fund a family member's civil suit
against Scientology. Both cases are scheduled to come to trial this
year.

The case has created much turmoil in Clearwater.

Opponents of the church, including Minton, have picketed
Scientology buildings to keep McPherson's case in the public eye.
Scientologists have picketed the Clearwater Police Department and
the St. Petersburg Times newspaper for its treatment of the church.

The church, founded in 1954, has long been controversial.

Its philosophy is part sci-fi, part self-help: Hubbard wrote that
people are spirits who were banished to Earth 75 million years ago
by an evil galactic ruler and need to be "cleared" of problems and
ailments that they've picked up in previous lives by going through a
series of "auditing" sessions with a trained counselor.

Critics say Scientology is actually a business that coerces members
to spend tens of thousands of dollars on its literature and to go
through 'auditing.'

The IRS revoked the church's tax-exempt status in 1967, reversing
the decision 26 years later only after a costly battle in which
Scientology launched numerous lawsuits and its own investigation
and infiltration of the federal agency.

A rough beginning

Scientology has also had a tumultuous time with Clearwater officials.
The city and the church have sparred from the beginning.

"They came in under cover," said Rita Garvey, a former mayor and
commissioner. "That was not a good way of starting off."

Scientology bought its first building in Clearwater, the landmark Fort
Harrison Hotel, in 1975 under a pseudonym, United Churches of
Florida. Documents seized in an FBI raid of Scientology properties
elsewhere would reveal that the church arrived with plans "for taking
control of key points in the Clearwater area" by infiltrating the
government, police, media and other institutions.

Outraged officials held investigative hearings in 1982 to find out
more about the church that had settled in their midst. The city
subsequently passed an ordinance requiring strict recordkeeping and
disclosure methods for religious and charitable groups, but the church
sued and ultimately got the law overturned as unconstitutional.

Properties worth $40 million

The church continued to buy properties around town and now owns
more than 30, valued at about $40 million. The church has begun
construction of a giant training and counseling building that when
completed will be downtown's largest structure.

Even without the new building, Scientology is a visible presence here,
where the church's uniformed staffers seem to fill downtown
sidewalks at lunchtime when they emerge from various buildings for
lunch.

The church says about 10,000 members live in the Clearwater area.
(The city has a population of just over 100,000.) And, the church
says, on any given day, 1,500 to 2,000 are visiting here to take
religious courses and training programs.

Church officials say Clearwater is second only to Los Angeles as a
base for their operations. The church has annual revenue of more
than $70 million from its Clearwater operations, according to one
document in the IRS case.

But while the city has had its battles with the church in the past,
both sides appear to be trying to ease tensions. For one thing, both
are interested in seeing downtown redeveloped.

"You can't plan for downtown development without them," says
Mike Meidel, president of the Clearwater Chamber of Commerce,
"so let's include them in our plans for the future.

"Scientology has been here so long, we're kind of getting used to it,"
he says. "Maybe people just got tired of beating their heads against
the wall. It's quieted down; the days of marching and picketing are
over, I hope."

Some fear Minton's new center, though, will serve only to renew
those tensions -- and with good reason. The blunt-speaking Minton
plans to continue getting in the church's face.

"I'm as close to the anti-Christ as you can get," Minton boasts of his
standing with Scientology.

A matter of free speech

Minton's crusade against Scientology began, he says, as a
free- speech action.

Minton, who retired in 1992, says he learned of the church's attempt
to kill an Internet newsgroup, alt.religion.scientology, about five
years ago. The newsgroup is dominated by former members and other
detractors who criticize the church and sometimes publish its secret
documents. Groups devoted to the free flow of information on the
Internet, such as the Electronic Frontier Foundation that Minton is a
member of, rose up in protest.

Minton says he became alarmed at what he says are the church's
destructive tactics against opponents. Critics' homes have been
raided and computer equipment seized, for example, as part of a
Scientology suit for copyright infringement over documents published
on the Internet.

Minton himself has had run-ins with church members over the years.
Minton was charged with misdemeanor battery in October after
scuffling with a church member during a picket outside the Fort
Harrison Hotel. A judge ordered Minton and the member he struck
to keep their distance from each other.

In July 1998, Minton fired a shotgun in the air after he says
Scientology pickets trespassed on his weekend home in New
Hampshire. Minton says he was angered that the pickets were yelling
that he was having an affair with his guest that weekend, Stacy
Brooks, a former church member with whom he has been working
on anti-Scientology efforts.

Minton has since confirmed that he and Brooks are romantically
involved and he has separated from his wife. Still, he says, his
personal life should have no bearing on his fight against Scientology.

Rinder says Minton's Lisa McPherson center can only hurt the
improving relations between the city and the church. He declined,
however, to discuss the McPherson case, saying it is a pending legal
matter.

Death among friends

Scientology's critics say McPherson's fate is emblematic of the
dangers the church poses to its members. In the last two years of her
life, she had spent nearly $100,000 on Scientology courses. In
November 1995, after a minor traffic accident, she suddenly took off
all her clothes and told paramedics she wanted help.

She was taken to a hospital, but she refused psychiatric treatment
after a group of Scientologists showed up to meet her. According to
court documents, they took her to the Fort Harrison Hotel, which
serves as a retreat for the church. After 17 days in which she was
occasionally hallucinating, vomiting and striking out at her
attendants, McPherson died.

The medical examiner said the cause was a blood clot brought on by
severe dehydration and bed rest. McPherson had lost an estimated
47 pounds during her time at the hotel, and her body was bruised
and scratched with cockroach bites.

The church was charged with abuse of a disabled adult and illegal
practice of medicine. The trial is scheduled for October.